


shelter.

by TheMiraclesInWords



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Gen, Goodbyes, Hurt/Comfort, Ignoring the post credit scenes, Irondad, Morgan and Peter are siblings and you can't change my mind, Self-Reflection, Short & Sweet, Spider-Man: Far From Home (Movie), Spider-Man: Far From Home (Movie) Spoilers, The Author Regrets Nothing, What am I doing? I wish I knew, spiderson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-07-19 03:55:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19967632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMiraclesInWords/pseuds/TheMiraclesInWords
Summary: “Hey, Mr. Stark,” The words sound rehearsed and worn. “I just, uh, needed to talk. To you, I mean. I wouldn’t be talking to anyone else like this . . . Which is obvious and why I’m going to shut up now,” He purses his lips, exhaling through his nose sharply. He cradles his forehead in his hand, leaning against the desk. “This is stupid, this is stupid,” He hisses to himself, glancing at the camera.He takes a deep breath. “Get it together, Peter,” The boy doesn’t say anything for a long time.“Peter, do you wish to continue filming?”“Yeah, sure,”Or: Just like Mr. Stark had before, Peter leaves his mentor a message. One he can't give in person.





	shelter.

**Author's Note:**

> it's a long way forward  
> so trust in me  
> i'll give them shelter like you've done for me  
> and i know i'm not alone  
> you'll be watching over us  
> until you're gone
> 
> \- "Shelter" Porter Robinson and Madeon

“Um, E.D.I.T.H, start recording,”

The camera is pointed outwards into a workshop, panning onto a desk. Pencils, erasers, lined papers, homework sheets and more are scattered across the desk miscellaneously. There’s an empty soda can on the corner of the desk. Screens, keyboards and computers are displayed behind the work desk, each displaying loading symbols or suit designs. 

The world flips upside down as the camera is pushed forward and reversed. The view shakes a little as the camera is placed onto the table in front. A boy around 15 or 16 comes into view. His hair is tousled and there are faint bags beneath his eyes. 

“Hey, Mr. Stark,” The words sound rehearsed and worn. “I just, uh, needed to talk. To you, I mean. I wouldn’t be talking to anyone else like this . . . Which is obvious and why I’m going to shut up now,” He purses his lips, exhaling through his nose sharply. He cradles his forehead in his hand, leaning against the desk. “ _This is stupid, this is stupid,_ ” He hisses to himself, glancing at the camera. 

He takes a deep breath. “Get it together, Peter,” The boy doesn’t say anything for a long time. 

“Peter, do you wish to continue filming?” A robotic voice asks. 

“Yeah, sure,” He shakes his head and straightens his posture so his entire upper body can be seen on camera. Peter looks at the camera, as if searching for something. “Um, I-uh,” His eyes glance at something just below the camera’s frame. “School’s fine . . . I guess. Everyone who got Blipped back-oh, the 5 year difference. We started to call that Blipping, by the way. And . . . I passed my midterms for the second time in a row. Midtown made us go back and do the year over again, which, for the record, I’m not thrilled about,”

There’s a small flicker of a smile on his lips, but the light in his eyes fades away quickly, taking any trace of content along with it. “Karen’s. . . Karen’s a good tutor. She helps me out sometimes but she’s got nothing on you,” His figure slumps forward a little. The action makes him seem older, more worn out. Tired. 

“Some of my classmates left for college, actually,” He takes the pencil lying nearby and starts to fiddle with it, twirling it back and forth in endless motion. “Weird, right? And now everyone’s treating us like we’re made of glass or something. That’s why they organized the school trip for us. And . . . we all know how that ended up, huh?”

He stops for a moment, instead taking the pencil and rolling it slowly between his pointer finger and thumb. “And . . . a lot has changed since Thanos and the Infinity Stones and Blipping and you,” Peter takes a long, shaky breath. “Since you . . . died, Mr. Stark,”

He purses his lips, lost in thought for a few seconds. Pain flickers across his face. “I . . .” He shakes his head violently, as if trying to free himself from his memories. After a few more seconds of silence, he blurts. “Morgan is so big now,” He smiles for a second time, and this time, it lingers as he speaks. “She-she and I play a lot, and talk. And I’ve introduced her to Star Wars too! I’m sorry,” He chuckles a little. “Maybe not. You should have seen her when she first saw the Millennium Falcon; she’s pretty set on building one now. You,” Something shifts in his voice once again.”should have seen it. You deserve to, Mr. Stark.

“She, ah . . . she misses you,” Peter brushed his knuckles across his eyes, wiping any tears that might escape. “Ms. Pepper does too. And . . . I’m sure you-” His voice cut off. He tried once more for a smile, though it resembled a grimace. 

“Happy," He switches the topic rapidly. "He’s actually a thing with May now. Which is something I don’t think anyone really expected,” He twirling the pencil up, watching it spiral and then catching it again. “Crazy, right?

“He’s happy though-well, I mean, he’d be Happy either way. Okay, sorry, bad pun. But Aunt May is too so I guess that’s something,” His voice went soft. “I don’t actually remember the last time I saw her like this. Not since Uncle Ben . . .”

He held the pencil stiffly in his fist. He whispers “Did I ever tell you? I don't think I did . . . So, after I got bitten and I was getting used to my new powers . . . there was this man. He was escaping the police and I saw it, but I didn’t go after him. I could have, easily. But . . . I didn’t. And a few days later,” Peter looks down, head hung. “Uncle Ben’s gone. And it’s-it’s my fault! If I had taken a few seconds of my life, helping someone else out, Ben would still be alive!”

A tear slides down his cheek. “And May doesn’t even know I was the one who killed her husband,” He sits for a while, shifting his weight left and right. “It’s pretty screwed up . . .

“And by being Spider-Man, I thought I could stop that from happening again. If I could have been smarter, or faster, or stronger or more like you-!” His voice cracks. Tears drops, one by one into his lap. “ . . . None of this would have happened. Because now, Tony Stark is dead. Iron-Man is dead. So _what now_?”

He surveyed the pencil in his hand. _Stark Industries_ was engraved into the wood. “Happy said I can’t be the next Iron-Man, but what if being Spider-Man still isn’t _enough_? Like, if it wasn’t for MJ, E.D.I.T.H would still be with Mysterio! Nick Fury would be dead! So many people would be _dead_! Everything you built and everything you stood for and protected . . . gone,”

Peter lifts his head, staring into the camera. “And that’s terrifying. I know it sounds lame but if Happy hadn’t gotten there in time or if I had been hit by the train just a little bit harder . . . gameover. I just barely made it,”

“‘With great power comes great responsibility’ that’s what Uncle Ben always said and now . . . I get that. It means . . . I have to move on,” He sounds like he’s trying to convince himself more than anyone else. His tone is desperate, pleading almost. 

“I have to grow and get smarter and stronger and faster to protect everyone. I’ll fight for New York, I’ll fight for Earth if I have to. I’m going to keep them safe, you’ll see it, I’ll keep them safe! I promise, no matter what it takes, Mr. Stark," He's breathing heavily now. ‘The little guy’, remember?”

“I can do it,” He searches the camera, eyes glassy. “Right?” Despite his words, his face doesn’t seem hopeful. Peter runs a hand through his hair, exasperated. “Right? I mean, what if I can’t? If I haven’t been able to save you, or Uncle Ben, how am I supposed to protect everyone? I mean, we’ve faced so many different villains and they keep coming back stronger and stronger! We lost you and-”

The pencil in his hand snaps, shattering wood shards and lead. 

He jumps back as if shocked. It takes him a while to recollect himself, eyes glued to the pencil on the floor, shattered somewhere beyond the camera’s frame. He curses under his breath. He takes a long sigh. 

“God, I’m such a _mess_. E.D.I.T.H, please stop-”

“Peter?” There’s a voice from off screen and he whirls around to address the voice. 

“Morgan?” He fumbles for his phone on the desk, pushing the glasses over a little. It turns the camera frame just enough for the camera to spot another person. She’s no older than 8 years old, wearing spotted pajamas and slippers. “Look at the time! It’s really late! God, does Ms. Pepper know you’re down here?”

Peter pushes his chair into view. Morgan shakes her head. “Mom said if I was out of bed again, she’d throw away all of the Star Wars DVDs,”

“We can’t have that, can we?” He helps Morgan climb onto his lap and rolls the office chair back to the desk. They sit on the edge of the camera now. Morgan looks down at the floor. 

“What’s that?” 

“What’s wh-oh,” Peter frowns. “Nothing, nothing! It’s just-”

“Is that your pencil?” She turns back to him. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out, so she talks for him. “Does it need a bandage? Or maybe duct tape,”

The boy doesn’t speak for a long time because it doesn’t seem like he knows what to say. “I think so, Morgan. We can fix it tomorrow. I need to fix a rip in my suit anyways,”

"Are you crying?" She asks, equally as blunt. Peter fumbles for words, laughing nervously as he wipes his face. 

"N-no! Well, maybe a little," He gives her a sad smile. "Just thinking about things,"

She nods thoughtfully. "Do you want a hug?" He doesn't answer, only pulling her in for a warm embrace. She smiles, kicking her legs slightly. They stay that way for a while.

“What’s that?” Morgan points to a sheet of paper on the desk. The paper is half dangling off the desk. 

“Let's see,” Unsure himself, Peter pulls the sheet from beneath his pencil pouch and holds it in front of them. “My bio homework. You like biology, right?”

“Yep,” She nods promptly. “Dogs, and cats, and birds and lizards and-”

“Spiders?” Peter suggests. 

“Ew,” She screws up her face and sticks out her tongue. “Nope!”

He gasps comically, spluttering in disbelief. She laughs. “What? No way, spiders are the best. Besides,” He nudges Morgan to slide off his lap. “Can a dog do this?” He springs off the chair and out of the frame in an instant, most likely on the ceiling. Morgan giggles chasing him, going out of the camera view. 

“Can they do this, or this, or this?” The sound of a web-shooter goes off with a fwip and Morgan squeals. "Spiders are pretty much the _best_ animals in the whole entire world!"

“I only like you,” She says. Peter flips back into view, and sits back in his chair. Morgan joins him, landing herself comfortable on his lap. As she looks around, her eyes meet the sunglasses and a small hand seizes one of the lenses, pulling the device towards her and examining the glasses up close. “Is E.D.I.T.H filming?”

Through the other lens, Peter’s fading grin becomes visible. “Yeah, well, I was . . . I was making a video. For Mr. Stark,” He looks sheepish, cheeks starting to turn scarlet. 

“Really?” Her eyes go wide. “Can I help?”

He pauses. “Well . . . yeah,” He nods to himself. “I-I think Mr. Stark would like that. Here,” She hands him the glasses, and he readjusts the camera so they’re both in the picture. “Is there . . . anything you want him to know?” He pulls her a little closer.

“Peter and I make juice pops together, so you don’t have to worry about us running out,” Morgan says instantly. “Yoda looks a little funny, but he’s really cool. But not as cool as you!" She amends quickly, clearly worried about causing offense. "Mom reads me really good bedtime stories. And Peter’s a really, really, really good Spider-Man. He even shows me his super, secret web fluid formula!” She announced proudly. “I think it’s more fun making wed fluid than juice pops, but juice pops taste better,”

“Agreed,” Peter murmurs softly. 

“He’s like ‘kaboom!’ and ‘bam!’ and ‘whoosh!’” She gestures with her hands wildly. She imitates setting off a web-shooter. “But mom says I can’t learn how to fight until I’m older,”

“She definitely won’t let you if you don’t go to bed,” Peter glanced at his phone displaying just how late it was. “Superheroes need to sleep,”

“Then why aren’t you sleeping?” 

“Superheroes also have calculus they need to get back to,” He gestured around the desk. “I have to catch up on a little studying,”

“Okay,” She nodded, then glanced back at the camera. “Goodnight, dad,” 

“I love you 3000,” Peter whispered. “You know that, right?”

“I love you more,” Morgan pauses, clearly deep in thought. “Then . . . I love you both to infinity,” 

“Oh,” Peter said softly. 

"It's a _really_ big number," She assures him. 

“I know . . . s-same here. Now, to bed,” She nods, and runs off out of the frame. He watches her, even tilting his head gently after she’s most likely upstairs, listening. “Yep, in bed. Now don't try any funny business,” 

He turns to the camera, sniffling a little. “It's like what Ms. Pepper said; we’ll be alright, Mr. Stark. Eventually. So, uh,” He brushes a stray tear from his eyes. His smile was watery, but genuine. Real. “Goodnight, Mr. Stark. E.D.I.T.H, stop recording please,”

* * *

_“Goodnight, kid,”_

**Author's Note:**

> Am I the only one who still isn't over Endgame? I watched Far From Home a while ago and I had a lot of feels. This is me trying to cope with it. I hope you enjoyed and please tell me what you think. 
> 
> \- M.W


End file.
